Chapter 11: TRYING TO FIND SOME KIND OF BALANCE
"So let me get this straight…" Jarry starts the car then shoots a sidelong glance at her passenger. "We're investigating a potentially bloody crime scene that's got no blood, no bodies and no proof that a real crime actually happened?" Exiting the parking lot, she turns onto the freeway leading to Charming. "Well that's something you don't hear every day."
She'd been in a meeting with Patterson when one of the deputies interrupted to tell her that they received a call from Stockton PD about reports of shots fired at the Mayan Clubhouse. However, when the city cops went to investigate, they'd found nothing but a handful of Mayans cleaning up their Clubhouse - the few who claimed to speak English had parroted the same story: someone in a truck just started shooting at them for no reason, then drove away. Nobody got hurt so no big deal.
Jarry had been about to dismiss the report and head out to continue her on-the-side investigation of Juice Ortiz when another deputy showed up to tell them about a call from St. Thomas Hospital; apparently they admitted a patient suffering from serious gun-shot wounds a few hours ago. When the deputy told them that the patient was Nero Padilla, an ex-con with known ties to both the Mayans and SAMCRO, Patterson had jumped out of her chair and ordered Jarry to drive them to St. Thomas. Convinced the two incidents had to be related, the DA placed a call to CSU, dispatching them to the Mayan Clubhouse to pick the place apart.
"The witness claimed hearing automatic gun-fire," Patterson reminds her, not looking up from her Blackberry. "That's a crime. And if the bullets recovered from Padilla match anything we can find at the Mayan Clubhouse, well then…there's the blood and the body."
"Only if he dies…Look, don't take this the wrong way, but bad guys shooting each other isn't exactly news. We've got enough on our plate with the Roosevelt-Knowles double-murder and shitload of other open cases. Not to mention whores pushing a king's ransom worth of drugs to god-knows-who…" In her years working in Stockton's organized crime unit, Jarry learned to prioritize the shit she saw - yeah, she had to take those assholes down, but her main concern was that they didn't hurt the innocent, law-abiding folks who paid her salary. And if the bad guys decided to weed out their numbers with a little internal bloodshed, well that's a few less scumbags for her to worry about.
Jarry feels Patterson's cold stare; apparently the DA's not exactly thrilled with her assessment. "Sheriff, I don't believe that criminals should be given carte blanche to do whatever they want to each other. Neither should you." Sighing loudly, the DA starts typing into her phone. "It's starting, don't you see? I've been worried about this…worried about what Teller would do to get vengeance for his wife's death. We need to lock him up before anything else like this happens."
Now it's Jarry's turn to stare. "What? You think Teller and SAMCRO had something to do with what went down with the Mayans today?" Her mind flashes back to her meet with Alvarez; she's usually pretty good at sensing when people were lying to her - not that the Mayan President wouldn't lie to her face if he wanted - but she suspected he hadn't needed to lie, the Mayans hadn't killed Eli or Dr. Knowles. That said, maybe Jax Teller hadn't believed him…
"Maybe." Patterson starts typing something into her Blackberry. "If the bullets in Mr. Padilla match anything we find at the Mayan Clubhouse, we can start there. It can't be a coincidence that the man wound up in Charming instead of a hospital in Stockton. SAMCRO's involved somehow. Once I prove it, then the Biker King goes back inside."
Jarry shakes her head; the DA's about to put herself in a really bad place. "Reese said to stay clear of Teller." Ever since they all started working on this case, the Chief Deputy AG's steered them away from Jax Teller as a suspect in his wife's murder. And probably not because Reese's harboring some particular fondness for the MC President - Jarry's seen the coldness in his eyes when they talked about the man; no, the state's golden boy has something else brewing - something big. And no doubt he'll pulverize Patterson if she fucks up his plans.
"He said not to arrest Teller for the drugs found at his brothel. This has nothing to do with that," Patterson tells her - likely practicing what she'll say to placate Reese. "Mr. Reese has a political agenda to get the death penalty back in play for the state, I'm supportive of that…but, my job's to keep violent criminals like Teller from hurting the people of this county. If that puts the two of us at odds, well then so be it…"
Do you even know Nick Reese? Jarry wants to ask the woman. There's no being "at odds" with the man; you're either with him or you're kicked out of the way. Looks like Patterson's got a hard lesson ahead of her. An uneasy silence blankets the two of them for the duration of the trip.
At the hospital they find out that Padilla's still in surgery. In the waiting room, they find a tall, thin man wearing a black hoodie talking softly to a distraught Gemma Teller Morrow. Well, well…maybe Jarry can learn something from of this trip after all.
Amazing how much someone can get done with an untraceable cel phone and a bout of insomnia; before sunrise, Jax'd already set the wheels in motion for transferring the gun business from Marks to the Mayans. Since the ambush on the Mayan Clubhouse, he's already had a few calls with the Irish to tell them what happened - what Marks and the Niners had done, what the Mayans and SAMCRO had to do to defend against the unwarranted attack. He knew how much the Irish hate anything drawing attention to their guns, and this certainly could do that. But he also knew how much the Irish Kings distrust Mexicans - not helped by what went down with the Galindo cartel - so he had a case to build (because if they didn't approve the Mayans, the fucking Irish pricks would probably find a way to bend SAMCRO to their will and back into the gun-running fold).
Before hanging up their latest call moments ago, Roarke had told him that they'd have a decision within 24 hours, and IF they decide to approve the Mayans, the Kings would arrive stateside by the end of the week to seal the deal. What a bunch of sanctimonious assholes. Nevertheless, even though Jax doesn't plan to be part of SAMCRO much longer, he wants to ensure his Brothers remain free from that bloody, violent no-win path.
It helps that Alvarez has Lin and the Triads in his corner, solidifying the Bay - especially with the Niners all but wiped out. Jax also knows that the Grim Bastards and other smaller MCs and street gangs would fall in line, but the big shiny carrot that he'd dangled in front of those greedy IRA bastards was an increased order from the Cacuzza's as well as interest from a potential new client base of Italian "families" from San Diego to Seattle - courtesy of one Marco DeNotti, mafia money man extraordinaire.
Sitting on his bed, Jax touches his wedding ring as he muses over the irony of it all; that Tara's unusual friend could be the key to keeping the guns away from SAMCRO. All of his roads always lead back to her.
"Daddy?" His heart squeezes at the sight of Abel standing in the doorway carrying his ever-present backpack, which Jax now knows carries his son's treasured stash of books that Tara had recorded for him and his little brother.
Jax glances over at the clock and frowns; it's barely six in the morning, Abel had gone to sleep just a few hours ago. "It's still early, Buddy…You should go back to bed."
But stubborn like his parents, Abel ignores the suggestion and walks into the room to stand in front of Jax. Based on the troubled look on his little's boy's face, Jax can guess what's upsetting him and once again curses Wendy and his mother to hell. Pulling his son onto his lap, he kisses Abel's soft blond head. "You want to tell me what's wrong?"
Abel doesn't respond so Jax takes a deep breath and decides to bite the bullet, although wishing he could shoot that bullet into Wendy's goddamn head. "I know what your Grandma's friend Wendy told you." When Abel burrows deeper into his chest, Jax hugs him tighter. "It doesn't matter what she said, we won't be seeing her ever again…You just got to remember the Mommy who was always there for you when you were sick or scared, who read you stories every night, who always planned fun Abel Days… All that matters is how much your Mommy loved you."
Feeling Abel nod slowly against his chest, Jax starts to ruffle his son's hair only to freeze when Abel pulls a framed photo out of his backpack - the framed photo that once sat on the dresser in the little boy's bedroom, one that he apparently felt the need to carry everywhere with him. Swallowing hard, Jax gazes at the picture of a hugely pregnant Tara beaming happily as she holds a laughing Abel in her arms. Unable to help himself, he brushes his thumb against her beautiful glowing face, wishing more than anything that he could feel her soft skin.
"Tommy was in her tummy." Abel tells him solemnly as his small finger taps Tara's pregnant belly. "He's lucky."
Jax feels his eyes sting, his heart aching for his little boy. Not for the first time, he wishes his nineteen-year-old self had made a different decision; had he left Charming with Tara…he knows that Abel would've been theirs for real, that she'd still be alive, that they'd still be together. But he also knows dwelling on thoughts like that get him fucking nowhere except reaching for yet another goddamn bottle of whiskey.
Squeezing his son, he presses another kiss on Abel forehead. "Actually, Buddy, you're the lucky one. You got to spend all that time with her - and have a lot of really good memories, right?" Abel nods earnestly, clutching the picture tightly. "I know that Thomas misses Mommy, too. But he's still really little, and babies his age usually don't remember a lot of things...I'm afraid, Thomas might not remember her when he gets older."
Abel looks so horrified by the thought that Jax sets him gently on the bed then drops down to the floor, pulling a redwood box out from under the bed. "It's going to be up to you and me to make sure he remembers her. Tell him all about how she was the smartest and prettiest and most fun Mommy ever. You think you can do that for your little brother?"
Smiling when Abel nods vigorously - like a cute little bobblehead, Jax then takes a deep breath as he opens the box and pulls out a few of his own treasured photos. In addition to the hundreds of pictures of Tara that he'd saved from their high school days and their time together before Abel's kidnapping, the box now includes all of the pictures of her and his boys that they'd sent him during his fourteen months in Stockton. And eventually he'll add some of the pictures he'd stolen from Reese (of course trashing the ones featuring that fucking prick).
"I keep pictures of Mommy, too." Jax places the selected photos carefully on the bed next to Abel, who flops onto his belly so he can study them more closely. A chuckle escapes him as he watches the little boy's blue eyes widen at the sight of his parents as teenagers.
"You look funny." Abel pokes at one of the photos then looks up at Jax. "You don't have Santa Claus face." Back in high school, he kept his facial hair to a minimum mainly because of school rules. However, since Tara told him how much she loved the feel of his beard rubbing against her body, he pretty much abandoned his razor. But obviously he can't tell his young son that.
He doesn't have to bother with any explanations as the sound of Thomas' cries reverberate from both down the hall and the baby monitor on the nightstand. "Sounds like your little brother's awake, too. Probably hungry. Why don't you go on to the kitchen; I'll go get him and then make breakfast for you guys." Abel hesitates - looking longingly at the photos that Jax had picked up from the bed and then at the redwood box - until Jax promises him that they could look at more pictures tonight (after he edits out the ones with the not-so-kid-friendly images).
Before dropping the photos back into the box, he stares one more time at the picture of him and Tara sitting on a big rock overlooking the ocean; her head resting on his shoulder, his arm squeezing her possessively. It'd been her sixteenth birthday, and he'd taken her to Monterey because she'd wanted to see the boardwalk and the aquarium. Shit, he still remembers every second of that trip like it happened yesterday; they'd been strolling on the beach, taking pictures of the seals when an elderly couple had offered to take their photo. Even now his pulse spikes at the sight of her; Christ she's beautiful, drop dead gorgeous with that dazzling smile and saucy sparkle in those green eyes…It's no wonder that he'd fallen so fucking hard for her.
"Happy Birthday, Babe." He smooths her windblown hair and flannel shirt out of the way to kiss her bare shoulder. Sitting on rock overlooking the ocean, they'd decided to watch the sun set over the water before heading out to grab dinner.
Shifting to straddle him, she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a long kiss on to his lips. "Thank you for bringing me here. Today was perfect." As he gazes into those incredible green eyes, everything - the beauty of the California coastline, the bright blue ocean - pales in comparison to the gorgeous girl smiling radiantly on his lap. But then everything does.
"Day's not over yet…" He wags his eyebrows suggestively then rubs himself against her, his heart and his dick pulsing excitedly at the sound of her musical giggles.
"Oh, I don't doubt that, Baby…I'm definitely looking forward to what's next." Tickling his ear with her tongue, she squeezes him tight, pressing herself even closer against him. "But right now…I just love feeling your heart beating against mine."
Lifting Thomas from his crib, Jax stares into his baby's glistening green eyes then hugs him tight, basking in the feel of Thomas' - and Tara's - heart beating against his chest.
Jax thinks about keeping his sons for the day, but then decides to take them to daycare for a couple of hours; Tara always tried to give the boys a routine, and he knows his sons like going there. Besides he's got to go to the hospital anyway to check on Nero, not to mention all the other shit he's got on his plate for today - most importantly, he's got to get his ass back on track to finding and exterminating Tara's murderer. Which means re-connecting with that asshole prick, Nick Reese.
Speaking of asshole pricks, unlike Dr. Gallagher - who'd operated on Nero yesterday and was in surgery today - none of the other doctors or nurses would tell him shit about Nero's condition because he's not immediate family. Jax considers lying about a familial relationship, but then he's sure they'd all find another coldly polite way to tell him to fuck off. Seems clear that most of the staff at St. Thomas blame and hate him for what happened to Tara. They wouldn't be wrong.
So to get the update on Nero, he tracks down Margaret - who slams him with a double dose of bad news. Apparently Dr. Gallagher's back in the OR because of Nero, suffering from a resurgence of internal bleeding and a sepsis infection that they're hoping won't lead to organ failure. Holy shit, Jax clenches his fists as Margaret tells him that they don't know how long the surgery will last or whether they'll be able to repair all the damage.
As if the news about Nero's not devastating enough, Margaret drops the other bomb. "You should know that after you left yesterday, the DA showed up with the new Sheriff." Her eyes narrow with angry distaste bordering on hate - a look he knew only too well from her, but this time he knows her wrath's directed at Patterson, whom they both blame for emotionally torturing Tara with the threat of prison. "They asked a lot of questions about Mr. Padilla's injury, said they'd be coming back today with a subpoena for the bullets we recovered from surgery."
Jesus Christ, he's pretty sure that those fuckers heard about what went down at the Mayan Clubhouse yesterday; it's just a matter of time before they link Nero to it - no matter how well the Mayans sweep the scene, it'd be a miracle to recover all the bullets and shells that'd blasted all over the place.
"I saw the Sheriff talking to your mother yesterday as well. Didn't look like a friendly conversation…" And Margaret would know, given her own rather contentious relationship with his mother. "Gemma's here now. In the chapel, if you want to talk to her."
Jax nods his thanks and starts to walk away when Margaret touches his arm. "I spoke to Dave and our kids about Abel and Thomas." She flashes him a small smile. "Although none of us want anything to happen to you…we'd be honored to have them be part of our family."
Relief surges through him; had she said no, he wasn't sure what he would've done - there's no one else Tara would've trusted with her babies. "Thank you. I'll talk to my lawyer to get the paperwork to you." He squeezes her hand resting on his arm. "Really, this means a lot…to me and to Tara." Her eyes grow misty as she nods then walks away.
Turning, he heads to the chapel to track down his mother; Gemma doesn't know a fucking thing about what went down with the Niners - what the hell would the Sheriff want to talk to her about? Determined to get the details on his mom's confrontation with the Sheriff, Jax stalks into the room; he's learned the hard way that it's the shit that you don't see coming that hurts the most.
"Any news?" she asks, staring at him as he sits down next to her. "Those assholes wouldn't tell me anything. Wouldn't believe me when I said I was his fiancée."
He cocks an eyebrow; that's fucking news to him. "Are you?" Nero would certainly be an improvement over his mother's last attempt at marital bliss. Provided he survives his injuries or doesn't wind up with a long prison term.
Shaking her head, she wipes the wetness on her cheeks then stares at him with haunted, blood-shot eyes. For a moment, he feels sorry for her once again; if anyone knows the hell she's going through, it's him. "Tell me he's going to be okay, Jackson," she begs. "He's got to be okay."
"I don't know, Mom." He runs his hand through his hair. "He's in surgery again. More internal bleeding and a bad infection that could...well, they're trying to stop it before it gets worse."
More tears pour from her eyes, as she chokes with sobs. "Yesterday, that doctor said…said that the delay in getting Nero to the hospital…made it worse. Do you think if Tara had been there…that she might've been able to…"
"Don't…Don't go there, Mom." Jax grips the edges of the bench so hard that he can feel splinters poking into his skin. He'd tortured himself with that same thought yesterday, and it'd almost mentally crippled him - he can't go there now. "I need to know what you and the Sheriff talked about yesterday. I know she questioned you."
His mother's face morphs from grief to horror before mysteriously going blank; she opens and closes her mouth a few times before responding in a flat tone. "It was nothing; the new Lady Sheriff was just flexing her pussy muscles."
Jax stares at her hard; after a lifetime of studying his mother's many moods, he knows when something's off with her - and something's definitely off the charts here. Whatever she had to say, the Sheriff rattled Gemma Teller Morrow. "Mom, they're going to try and connect Nero with a shootout that happened at the Mayan Clubhouse in Stockton…You got to tell the truth and say you didn't know anything about it…You can't get involved; they'll use it to connect SAMCRO."
Gemma blinks in what seems like surprise, but before he can process it, she leans in to hug him. "I'd never do anything to put you or the Club at risk, Jackson. You know that. It's what I told you before…the Sheriff was just throwing around some bullshit questions, trying to get me to bite. I didn't tell her a goddamn thing."
Jax pulls away abruptly; she may be his mother and he loves her, but he's still fucking pissed over the shit she pulled with Wendy. Standing, he ignores the hurt that spreads across her face. "I got to go. Are you sticking around here?" At her nod, he tells her to keep him posted if she learns anything.
He's almost to the door when she calls out his name, stopping him in his tracks. "Are the boys at the daycare? Can I…can I see them?"
Opening the door, he turns to face her. "I don't think that would be a good idea right now…And don't get any fucking ideas about going around my back again." He glares pointedly at her. "I took you off the list." Before she can respond, he storms out and heads for the elevator.
Stalking off the elevator, Jax heads towards the hospital exit until - once again - someone calls his name. Whirling around, he finds himself face-to-face with the subject of his conversation with his mother.
"I don't think we've ever been formally introduced." The thin, brown-haired woman extends her hand. "Lieutenant Althea Jarry, head of the San Joaquin County Sheriff's Department."
"So the Sheriff and the DA think they can link you to some alleged shoot-out…All because they expect to find matching bullets in your friend and at the supposed crime scene?" Rosen leans forward, gazing probingly at Jax. "Are they going to find anything else besides bullets at the Mayan Clubhouse?"
After his rather brusque encounter with the new Sanwa Sheriff, Jax sped straight to Rosen's office. Although the Sheriff doesn't have shit on him, he worries if the suspicion's enough to get his parole revoked, even temporarily. He can't afford to leave his sons, can't afford to leave the search for Tara's killer to those bumbling fucks.
"I don't know." He runs an agitated hand through his hair. "There's zero proof that me and my guys were even there…but knowing Patterson, she'll find some way to twist this to fuck with me. You know she'll do whatever to put me back inside."
Rosen rubs his chin thoughtfully. "The Mayan Clubhouse is Stockton PD's jurisdiction, the sheriffs are only supposed to get involved if crimes spread outside of city limits, which apparently they're trying to do here by linking Nero to that scene. It's a stretch and could take some time to prove…time that they don't have. Unless they want to piss off the AG's office."
Frowning, Jax stares at him. "What do you mean?" He hasn't mentioned anything to Rosen about his interactions with Nick Reese; it's probably a dumbshit move keeping something like that from his lawyer, but since he still plans to end the arrogant prick, the fewer people who know about their connection, the better.
"Based on what I've heard, off-the-record, the AG's office has declared nailing Roosevelt's killer to be Sanwa County law enforcement's top priority; so if Nick Reese finds out that Patterson's spent one second snooping into something beyond that…well she won't have to worry about re-election, ever." Rosen shakes his head and sinks back into his chair. "No, I suspect the Sheriff's trying to rattle your cage, get you to slip up so they can lock you up without having to do any actual investigating. So stay away from them as much as possible; get in touch with me the second they approach you again. I don't want you to say a word around them without me there. Got it?"
Trying to smile but failing miserably, Jax nods and starts to rise until Rosen motions to sit. "What is it?" he asks tensely, dreading the odd look on Rosen's face; seriously, he can't deal with another fucking problem right now.
"I've received a few calls from some friends of yours…Colette Jane and Charles Barosky. Sound familiar?"
Jax drops back into his chair and stares at his lawyer in confusion. What the fuck would those two want with Rosen? "Yeah," he responds once the temporary surprise wears off. "Why the hell did they call you? I know that Colette got busted in a drug raid, but I can't imagine that's your kind of work anymore."
"Representing prostitutes has never been my line of work." Rosen scowls at him; apparently gun-runners and killers rate much higher than whores on the man's scale of scumbag hierarchy. "But your whore and her friend insist that you'd want me to represent her because you're business partners and because..."
Now it's Jax's turn to scowl. "She's not my whore," he interrupts, snarling as gut-wrenching guilt pierces through him once again; that same painful, sickening guilt that'll torture him for the rest of his life. "You don't have to do a fucking thing for her; she's a goddamn drug dealer."
"…and because she claims to know something about Tara's murder…" Rosen continues quietly, as if knowing exactly how much that news would level Jax. "She claims not to have said anything to the cops because she wants me to work out a deal for her, using what she knows as leverage…"
Closing his eyes as the pounding in his head returns with a vengeance, Jax grips the chair arms tightly to keep from trashing Rosen's office in a rage. "When the fuck did she tell you this?" He hisses through gritted teeth.
"Yesterday. I called you right afterwards, left you a voicemail. Frankly that's why I thought you came here. Is she credible? If you want me to…"
"No," Jax snaps. "I'll go talk to her; find out what the hell she knows. And if she's dangling this just to get you to help her, so help me…"
Rosen shakes his head. "You can't go see her in County, Jax. You're a convicted felon on federal release; it's against policy for you to visit any inmate without clearance from either the Sheriff or the DA. And we don't want them getting wind of this before we know what she has to say…Seriously Jax, what's this woman to you besides a 'business partner'?"
Rising, Jax releases the chair arms and clenches his fists as rage and hate surges through him. "Nothing…she's nothing but a goddamn whore. Let her rot in jail." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out some folded papers and tosses them on to Rosen's desk. "You said you're good with family law…I need your help with that."
Perusing the documents, Rosen smiles for the first time since Jax charged into his office. "Piece of cake. Okay, I'll draft the papers and have them ready for you to sign day after tomorrow." The lawyer stands and extends his hand to Jax. "It's a good plan, Jax - Tara would've approved."
"Thank you." Jax shakes Rosen's hand. "Call me when the papers are ready. I'll deal with Colette." Ignoring the concern on the other man's face, he turns and calmly walks out the door. However, that calm disappears as he walks into the empty elevator, slamming his fist against the wall as the doors close.
Jesus Christ he needs a drink, Jax scrubs his hand across his face as he walks towards his bike; fuck, he needs the whole goddamn bottle. Instead he pulls out his cell phone and punches in a number, his face twisting with hate when the familiar, despised voice answers. "We need to talk. Same place. Now." He hangs up before hearing a response and jumps on his bike to ride towards the Charming cemetery.
"This is the most beautiful ring I've ever seen." Snuggling against him as they lay by the campfire, she lifts her hand, admiring the sparkling diamonds and platinum band set off by the glowing firelight. "Maybe I shouldn't ask, but how were you able to pick out a ring like this while you were in Stockton?"
He nuzzles her neck, pressing soft kisses to her silky skin. "Actually I picked it out weeks before I went inside. Was going to ask you sooner, but…" Fuck, he doesn't want to go there; doesn't want to taint any part of this this night, this weekend or the rest of their lives with memories of him going batshit crazy.
Completely understanding, she smiles and cups his face. "I'm just so thrilled to have it now."
Maybe he shouldn't ask, but he can't help himself. "If this is the most beautiful engagement ring you've ever seen, how many other marriage proposals have you had?" He masks his decade-old jealousy with a light, teasing tone, or so he hopes. It's been years since Kozik told him the story of Tara's other marriage proposal; he knows he's a fucking idiot to still be thinking about it, but part of him - hell, all of him - needs to know what that douchebag meant to her. He's never loved anyone like he loves her, not even close; he needs to know that it's been the same for her.
"Actually I was talking about rings in general. But to answer your question, I've never owned another engagement ring."
She looks up at him curiously as if sensing his unease. "Something the matter?"
Feigning casual indifference, he shrugs then pulls her closer to him. "No, all's good. I guess I really don't know much about the life you had away from Charming." Except for Kohn - and Jax knows all he ever cares to know about that dead piece of shit.
"Well I never married anyone else…unlike some people." She smiles impishly, tweaking his goatee.
"I told you about that." He skims his thumb back and forth across her lower lip; Tara's always had the plumpest, pinkest, most kissable lips he'd ever seen. Unable to resist, he feeds her a slow, lingering kiss; pulling away slightly before he forgets what he wants to say. "It was a shit time of my life, Tara. You were gone, Ope was in Chino…" He brushes a dark lock of hair from her face. "I just really missed what you and I had. So I thought if my mom could find a second chance with Clay, then maybe I could, too. Wendy was a friend, and we had a good time - but it was a big fucking mistake. I never loved her, didn't even like her most of the time we were married. I was a shitty husband, and she couldn't lay off the drugs. But what really killed us was that she wasn't you, and I just couldn't pretend anymore."
Catching him by surprise she rolls them so he's flat on his back while she lies on top of him - like their many, many yoga sessions; however, there's no teasing, saucy smile on her face this time. "I love you, Jax." She caresses his face with her soft hands, raining kisses on his lips. Then resting her chin on her folded arms, she looks off into the distance. "I missed what we had too, Baby. Mostly, I tried to stay busy with school - there was definitely a lot of that. I didn't sleep with 'hundreds' of guys." She rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head. "Just a few… There was one guy I started dating when I was a sophomore; we were together for a few years, but…"
"Did you love him?" Dreading the answer, Jax fucking hates the insecurity he hears in his voice. Almost as much as he hates that nameless, faceless shitbag from her past.
Now it's her turn to skim her fingers across his lips. "I told myself I did, he was a great guy. But in the end…he wasn't you, and I just couldn't pretend anymore."
Smiling, he lifts her left hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her engagement ring - squeezing her tightly against him with his free arm. She's mine, he vows fiercely; Tara belongs to him, like he's always belonged to her. After all the shit that's happened to keep them apart, they're still together because they're meant to be together.
He gazes up at her, his pulse racing at the sight of those glowing green eyes and dazzling smile; the scenic backdrop of their special campsite and the sun setting behind Mt. Walker fade in comparison to his beautiful girl. But then everything does.
"I think someone's awake...again." She giggles pressing closer to him, rubbing herself against his stiff cock. Jax savors the pleasure of that friction for a long moment before pulling her head down to his and devouring her mouth. Not that they've ever been models of restraint with each other, but - holy shit - ever since he got out of Stockton it's like high school again; his dick certainly acts like they're sex-crazed teens again.
He shifts them so that they're side-by-side and face-to-face, giving him unfettered access to her gorgeous body - including those mouthwatering breasts, still larger and lusher than usual thanks to her recent pregnancy. "Remember when I could make you come just by sucking on these puppies?" He rubs her plump pink nipples with his thumbs before bending his head to stroke those rosy, swollen buds with long and slow and wet licks.
"Since the last time was just this morning, then yes…oh yes…" Tara twines her arms around his neck, tunneling her fingers through his short, spiky hair; her breathing growing louder, choppier as he suckles her hungrily. "Oh god, Jax…Now, Baby, fuck me now…"
Unable and unwilling to resist (because he's not fucking crazy) - Jax drapes one of her long legs over his hip then presses his thumb against her clit, loving the feel of her shivering with excitement against him. "I love you, Tara…" He claims her mouth again, swallowing her screams as he massages her to orgasm. "More than anything."
"And I love you, Baby." She gasps breathlessly, caressing his face as she rubs her breasts against his chest until he cups a lush mound in his hand; stroking her still-hard, still-wet nipple with his fingers. "So much, Jax, so much…"
She's still quivering from release when he pushes his rigid cock into her soaking wet heat; Jax hisses with pleasure as she grinds against him, her hands gripping his ass as her throbbing inner muscles squeeze his dick like a sizzling hot vise.
Mesmerized by her beautiful, radiant face he's suddenly unable to speak - not the first time he's gone tongue-tied by the sight and feel of her. Hugging her tight, he flexes his ass and shoves his cock even deeper, rocking and pulsating until he erupts inside of her - triggering the intense, fiery ecstasy engulfs them both.
Pressing her even closer against him, he stares into those hypnotic green eyes and revels in the feel of her heart pounding in rhythm with his. "I just love feeling your heart beating against mine." She said that to him for the first time on her sixteenth birthday and probably a hundred times since. He couldn't agree more.
Pacing the columbarium, Jax waits impatiently for Nick Reese to arrive; the prick's late - probably another fucking power play to show off his big dick. What a goddamn asshole.
He catches sight of the black SUV pulling into the cemetery parking lot and grits his teeth as he watches the shitbag emerge from the car. More than anything, Jax wants to murder the guy with his bare hands, but unfortunately he needs him - needs him to find Tara's killer, starting with getting access to Colette in prison.
Jax's eyes narrow as the fucker approaches him, hate surging through every cell in his body. Dressed casually in jeans and a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, Reese suddenly looks like the guy hugging and holding Tara in those college photos; Jax's hands ball into fists, fists that'll soon be slamming into the asshole's fucking face. Yeah, he needs Reese's help for now, but that doesn't mean he can't beat the shit out of the prick afterwards.
But before he can say or do anything, Reese's fist slams into his jaw knocking him backwards; another swift, powerful hook sends him crashing to the ground.
"You fucking, goddamn piece of shit." Reese stands over him, cold rage contorting his usually controlled expression. "You should've just stuck with your junkies and whores…you didn't deserve her…"
You didn't deserve her. It's nothing he hadn't said to himself a million times; probably why he'd been so scared of losing her. But it's one thing to torture himself with that fact, quite another to hear it from this pompous son-of-a-bitch. Scrambling to his feet, he watches Reese raise his fist again - this time Jax launches himself at the goddamn asshole, ready to unleash the jealous rage that's been festering inside him for over a decade.
Everything else can wait for now.